Monday Girl Page 9

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Renee?’ Babs asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, and dancing’s not nearly so difficult as I thought it would be.’

  Mike was also more at ease now. ‘You’ve got a fine teacher, though. Tim’s reckoned to be a very good dancer.’ Tim slipped his arm round Renee’s shoulder. ‘You’re only saying that because it’s true, Mike, but she’s a quick learner, this girl, and I can hardly wait for a tango, to see what she makes of that.’

  When the band struck up again, Mike took Renee up to the slow foxtrot. ‘I’m glad you came with us,’ he said, when she got into the rhythm of it. ‘Tim’s quite shy underneath, though he clowns around a bit to cover it up. He’s been wanting to ask you out for ages, but he couldn’t pluck up the courage. You’d be better with him than Fergus, you know.’

  ‘Oh, Mike. Not you, too?’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything, it just slipped out. What d’you think of Babs?’

  ‘She’s nice, Mike. I like her a lot.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Tim had been dancing with Babs, but when they all returned to the side, and the lilting music of a tango began, he pulled Renee back on to the dance floor. ‘Now then, my fine beauty, let’s see how you manage with this. You’ve to act the goat a bit, but we’ll have a wee practice in a corner, first.’

  She felt self-conscious to begin with, but soon mastered his intricate footwork, and they mingled with the other dancers, exaggerating their steps until they ended up giggling. All too soon, the last waltz was announced. ‘Have you really enjoyed yourself, Renee?’ Tim laid his cheek against hers under the dimmed lights.

  ‘Oh, yes. I never thought dancing would be like this.’ He tightened his arm round her waist. ‘We could maybe do it again some time? Just you and me? I don’t think Mike’ll need us, after this, he seems to be doing fine with Babs.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, Tim.’ Content with that, he grabbed her hand after she collected her coat. They had to walk all the way home, because it was well after time for a bus, but he kept up a running fusillade of jokes, and it didn’t seem long.

  When they neared their street, Tim halted, and gently maneouvred her against a wall. ‘Wait a minute, Renee. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all evening.’

  As his head came towards her, she turned her face away.

  ‘No, Tim. Don’t spoil everything now.’

  He looked at her quizzically. ‘Don’t you think I deserve just one teeny weeny kiss for teaching you to dance?’

  His eyebrows were raised so high that she laughed and gave in. ‘I suppose you do.’ She planted a light kiss on his cheek, but he brought his hands up to steady her head, and kissed her firmly on the lips.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ He was joking, but his eyes were serious for once. She had actually quite enjoyed it, and, looking at him now, eyes regarding her affectionately, one lock of blond wavy hair falling over his forehead, she decided that he was really quite good-looking, though she’d never noticed it before, being so involved with Fergus. She let him kiss her again, then drew back to catch her breath.

  Hugging her tightly, he murmured, ‘You’re a lovely girl, Renee. Too nice to waste yourself on a rotter like . . .’

  She stiffened. ‘Tim, not again.’

  ‘Sorry, but I can’t help it. He makes my blood boil. I wouldn’t play around if you were my girl.’

  ‘Well, I’m not your girl, and I understand why Fergus plays around, as you put it.’

  He looked apologetic. ‘Forget I said anything, please. I’ve enjoyed my night out with you, and you turned out to be quite a good little dancer.’

  ‘Only quite good?’ She pretended to be offended, but was relieved that he’d stopped criticising Fergus.

  ‘You could be very good, after more practice with me.’ His forefinger traced the outline of her lips. ‘D’you know what they say? Generous mouth, loving heart.’

  ‘Tim Donaldson! Are you telling me I’ve got a big mouth?’ She laughed, to show that she knew he wasn’t.

  ‘You’ve got a perfect mouth. Perfect for kissing.’ He kissed her again to prove it – a long, melting kiss, which made her heart pound in spite of herself.

  ‘Well, well! Love’s young dream!’ The sneering voice belonged to Fergus, who was standing behind Tim with a nasty smile on his face. ‘You might have taken her to somewhere more private, Tim. Under a lamp post? I could see you from away down the road.’

  ‘Fergus, it’s not what it looks like,’ Renee pleaded, mortified that he’d caught her out like this. ‘There’s nothing in it, is there, Tim?’

  ‘Apparently not.’ Only then did he let his arms drop. She knew that she’d hurt him deeply, but was so confused she couldn’t think how to extricate herself from the awkward situation. ‘I’m sorry, Tim,’ was all she could say. She trailed behind them as Fergus led the way round the corner to the house.

  ‘I found these two lovebirds kissing and canoodling back there,’ he announced to Anne, who was still sitting by the fireside, although it was nearly two o’clock in the morning.

  Muttering ‘Goodnight’, Tim went straight upstairs.

  ‘You sounded a wee bit jealous.’ Anne looked keenly at Fergus as he flopped down on the settee, but he snorted with derision.

  ‘Jealous? Me? That’ll be the day! I just thought you wouldn’t be very keen on the idea of them kissing, and God knows what else, when she’s only fifteen.’

  Renee’s eyes flashed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t speak about me as if I wasn’t here, Fergus, and we were only kissing.’ She slammed the living-room door as she went out, but could hear Fergus and her mother still laughing when she was in bed, and felt like weeping at the injustices of life. Why did he have to turn up at that particular time? In another few minutes, they’d probably have been inside the house. Now everyone would all be laughing in the morning about how she’d been caught kissing Tim in the street, and what would Jack think of her, after she’d told him she loved Fergus?

  And Fergus himself must be upset, although he’d tried to joke about it to her mother. He wouldn’t want to have anything more to do with her after this, and he was only laughing now to cover up the hurt he’d suffered because his Monday girl had cheated on him, for that’s what he must think. She could feel sorry for poor Tim, as well. She shouldn’t have let him kiss her, although she’d enjoyed it at the time. Now he’d be thinking she’d just been making a fool of him, after he’d been so kind to her at the Palais.

  She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when her mother came to bed, but lay awake for hours, worrying about the terrible tangle she’d landed herself in. And, try as she would, she could see no way of getting herself out of it.

  Chapter Seven

  It was late next morning when Renee rose, but she couldn’t have eaten breakfast in any case, with this awful sickness still gnawing at the pit of her stomach. The four lodgers were leaving when she went down, but neither Jack nor Tim spoke to her, and Mike just murmured, ‘Morning, Renee,’ as he went out.

  Fergus, last as usual, wore an annoying smirk. ‘Farewell, Delilah.’

  ‘Don’t tease her, Fergus.’ Anne’s voice was sharp.

  His dark smouldering eyes turned on her. ‘Sorry, Anne,’ he said, before following the others outside. It was as if he’d thrust a dagger into Renee’s already bruised heart. He’d said

  ‘Anne’ again. He’d done it on purpose, this time, and if his intention had been to wound her, he’d succeeded perfectly.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ her mother said, kindly. ‘He’ll stop tormenting you in a day or two.’

  Renee’s work suffered that morning, her mind being on her own troubles, and Miss Esson had to reprimand her twice.

  ‘Problems with a boyfriend?’ whispered Sheila Daun, the other clerkess. She was a tall, slim redhead, with brown eyes now looking sympa
thetically at Renee.

  ‘Yes.’ The girl felt she had to confide in someone. ‘Two of them, actually.’

  ‘Two? Tell me more.’

  ‘Well, you see, we’ve got four lodgers in our house, and . . .’

  ‘Four? God, you lucky thing!’

  ‘They’re all very nice, but I’m in love with Fergus Cooper. He’s very nearly twenty-two, and he’s only waiting till I’m older before he tells Mum he loves me. And I only agreed to go out with Tim Donaldson in a foursome because Mike was too shy to go out with Babs on his own.’

  ‘That’s as clear as mud,’ Sheila giggled, ‘but go on. How old’s this Tim, by the way?’

  ‘Not long eighteen, and quite good-looking.’

  ‘How good-looking?’

  ‘Blond, wavy hair and blue eyes, but Fergus’s hair’s black and curly, and his eyes are dark, dark brown, and his teeth are lovely, and . . . oh, he’s just perfect.’

  Sheila grinned. ‘You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you? And if you’re not wanting Tim, I wouldn’t refuse if you passed him over to me. But what’s the problem?’

  ‘Mike saw Babs home from the Palais, so Tim had to take me home by himself.’

  ‘So? What was wrong with that?’

  ‘Well, I let him kiss me a few times because I’d enjoyed dancing with him, and, of course, Fergus just happened to come past and saw us. Now he’s being sarcastic about it, and I don’t suppose he’ll ever want to go out with me again.’

  ‘Ah, now I understand. But what’s your mother saying about you going out with two boys at your age?’ Sheila was intrigued by the situation.

  Suddenly ashamed, Renee’s eyes dropped. ‘She doesn’t know I go out with Fergus. He started meeting me after the evening classes last October, but now I tell her I’m going to the pictures with a girl I went to school with.’ She dabbed away a tear which was trickling down her cheek.

  ‘Secret assignations? And you’ve never told me before? God, Renee, you’re a dark horse.’ There was grudging admiration in Sheila’s eyes, but she suddenly voiced the question which was niggling at the back of Renee’s own mind. ‘But why can’t Fergus ask you out openly? If your Mum thinks you’re old enough to go out with Tim, she couldn’t have any objections to you going with Fergus. It’s not as if he was somebody she didn’t know. That would have been different. I can’t see why he doesn’t ask her. Unless he’s scared she’d think he’s too old for you.’

  The old suspicion returned. If something was going on between her mother and Fergus, he’d hardly be likely to ask her if he could take her daughter out.

  Sheila carried on, quite unaware of the hornets’ nest she was stirring up. ‘He maybe doesn’t want to take you out openly at all. There are some men like that, you know, who get a bigger thrill when everything’s underhand, and prefer young innocent girls, until they’re not innocent any longer.’ This was so near to what Tim and Jack had been hinting that Renee burst into tears. ‘No, no. It’s not like that at all. Fergus really loves me. He told me I’m his Monday girl . . .’ She stopped – Sheila would never understand about his other girlfriends. ‘I mean,’ she sobbed, ‘he says I’m the first girl for him, and . . .’

  ‘He told you he’s never had a girlfriend before? At his age? Do you honestly believe that?’

  Sheila had jumped to the wrong interpretation of the words ‘first girl’ and Renee deemed it best not to enlighten her. To mention the other girls he went out with would show Fergus in a poor light to anyone who didn’t understand him like she did.

  ‘I believe what he tells me,’ she said evasively, scrubbing her eyes with her damp handkerchief. ‘He wouldn’t tell me lies. He loves me.’

  Sheila grimaced, but her eyes were full of pity. ‘I’ve heard that love’s blind, but you’re burying your head in the sand, Renee. Still, it’s your lookout. You’d better go and wash your face, or old Bill will be wondering what’s wrong.’

  Old Bill, as the girls affectionately called Mr Murchie, the manager, had already noticed the little scene through the glass walls of his small office, but he was a warm-hearted man with a seventeen-year-old daughter of his own, and guessed that Renee Gordon was probably upset because of some boy, so he said nothing, and was pleased to see the girl emerge from the cloakroom in a few minutes, looking more composed.

  ‘She’s a bonnie wee thing,’ he remarked to Miss Esson, who was going over some figures with him. ‘But she’ll likely think her heart’s broken a few times before she settles down.’

  ‘No doubt,’ the cashier replied dryly. ‘Are you ready to carry on?’ They bent their heads to their work again.

  On the way home at teatime, Renee was dreading the teasing she would have to face, but Sheila’s last words to her, before she left the office, were making her think.

  ‘Enjoy yourself, Renee,’ the other girl had said. ‘Go out with lots of boys and make this Fergus jealous. Maybe that’ll bring him to his senses and force him to make everything above-board.’

  She might just try it. Nothing could be worse than the muddle things were in at present.

  At the table, however, no one mentioned the previous night’s indiscretion. She was too embarrassed to look at Tim, but Jack, sitting next to her, caught her hand under the tablecloth and gave it a quick, sympathetic squeeze. She returned the pressure to show that she was grateful, but glanced at Fergus in case he had noticed.

  No one else happened to be looking in his direction at the time, and he surprised her by puckering up his lips in the make-believe kiss that he sometimes made for her. It was all right. He wasn’t angry with her any longer. The relief of that, and her lack of breakfast, gave her a hearty appetite, and, the talk being quite general, she was able to enjoy the meal after all.

  Mike Donaldson was the first to make a move. ‘I’d better get washed and dressed. I’m meeting Babs again tonight.’

  ‘No chaperones required this time, then?’ Fergus laughed to hide his sarcasm.

  Mike smiled pleasantly. ‘Not now. We got on like a house on fire when I saw her home last night.’

  ‘Tim and Renee got on like a house on fire last night as well, of course.’ Fergus just couldn’t resist the dig.

  Unexpectedly, Tim answered for himself as he stood up, his hair falling over his brow again. ‘Aye, Fergus, we did that, till you came and poked your nose in.’

  Fergus smirked. ‘I’m sorry I spoiled your little bit of fun for you, Tim.’ Renee saw Tim’s hands clenching, but Anne stepped in before there was a nasty scene.

  ‘Leave it, Fergus. You promised me. There’s nothing wrong in Tim kissing Renee, is there?’

  He assumed a hang-dog expression. ‘No, Anne, I suppose not. Sorry again. Me and my big mouth.’

  Tim turned and walked out; Anne picked up the empty tureen and casserole dish and Jack held the door open for her before he followed her through.

  Fergus leaned towards Renee and whispered, ‘But you liked him kissing you, didn’t you?’

  His sneer caught her on the raw. ‘Yes, I did. So what?’ She kept her eyes on the plates she was stacking on the tray.

  ‘So warn him off, or else you won’t be my Monday girl any more.’ His brows were down as he pushed his chair back, but he was on his feet and smiling when Anne returned. Renee carried out the tray, but curiosity made her stop in the hall. She wanted to hear what Fergus and her mother would say to each other when they were alone.

  ‘I told you not to tease them.’ Anne’s voice was low and angry. ‘I know Renee thinks she’s in love with you – I’ve seen the cow’s eyes she makes at you when she thinks I’m not looking – but I don’t want you encouraging her. I’ve warned you what I’d do if I found out you were trying anything on with her behind my back.’

  ‘Tell her, then.’ Fergus sounded cocky. ‘She won’t believe you, anyway.’

  ‘Fergus, please don’t be so cruel
.’ Anne was pleading now. ‘You know I’m jealous of her as far as you’re concerned.’

  He laughed then. ‘You’ve no reason to be jealous of Renee, my dear Anne. She’s only a kid, and I’ve told you before – you’re my Monday girl, remember. The first woman in my life.’

  Renee’s legs almost buckled under her as she turned to walk across the hall. It was true. There was something going on between Fergus and her mother – much more than she’d ever suspected or imagined. They must have been making love every Monday, before he’d come to the grammar school at half past nine, and . . . Oh, it was horrible!

  The sickness had returned to her stomach, a thousand times worse than ever before, and, by the time she had walked through the living room into the scullery, she felt like going back and bursting in to confront them, to shout to her mother that it was she, Renee, who was his Monday girl, and that Fergus was in love with her. But it was as if she were chained to the spot, and she doubted if her legs would have carried her, anyway.

  In a few minutes, Anne came through with the rest of the dishes, and started drying what Renee had already washed. The girl watched surreptitiously as her mother laid each item past. She was still an attractive woman, her figure perhaps a little on the plump side now, and she had given her hair a henna rinse lately, so it didn’t look so mousey, just thick and healthy. She had stopped wearing black altogether, and the blue jumper and skirt really suited her. She must want to look good for Fergus, Renee thought, because she never slopped around in old clothes when he was there, and appeared to have new clothes all of a sudden. Maybe he’d even bought them for her. And she looked very pleased with herself now, so he must have kissed her . . . or something.

  The more the girl let her imagination run riot, the deeper the pain bored into her, and she was willing to clutch at anything to ease the terrible gnawing at her heart. Fergus couldn’t possibly love her mother. She was an old woman, thirty-nine on her next birthday, and he would only be twenty-two in a week or two. Maybe her mother was in love with him, but he definitely couldn’t be in love with her. He had only one love in his life, a girl only six years younger than he was, Renee herself. She had to believe that. Her life would be meaningless if she thought he loved anyone else.